


Tough Nut to Crack

by Blue M Hart (ThePreciousHeart)



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Apologies, Blood and Violence, Character Study, F/M, Fever, Fever Dreams, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Healing, Mid-Canon, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, My First Work in This Fandom, One Shot Collection, Platonic Romance, Pre-Canon, Shame, Sick Character, Stargazing, Team Bonding, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/Blue%20M%20Hart
Summary: Four stories about Nux that I decided were better off compiled into one work.1. Nux suffers from both a fever and Slit's taunting, and dreams about fulfilling his destiny to reach Valhalla.2. After his humiliation on the Fury Road, Nux comes into contact with one of the women on the War Rig.3. Nux attempts to apologize to and bond with his bloodbag.4. While stargazing, Nux & Capable discuss their future.





	1. Do It For Him

       The sun pounds down on Nux, its liquid rays filling him from the inside out. It seems to have penetrated his protective layer of body paint, scouring him until he’s purified. Beads of sweat carelessly evaporate on his skin, causing steam to rise. _Shade!_ Frantically Nux looks about, but there’s no sign of the Citadel’s massive fortress, or even a vehicle in the shadow of which he could stand. He’s all alone, trapped in a vast desert, with no way to stop the sun from tearing right through him…

       Nux’s eyes snapped open as the blinding brightness of his dream transformed into a shadowy room. Relief flowed into him. He was safe and sound in the Citadel, under the protection of the Immortan and surrounded by his fellow War Boys. But the physical sensation of fire consuming his skin hadn’t abated. Groggy from sleep, Nux shoved away an arm that seemed to have crept around him overnight. Such contact didn’t normally bother him- War Boys habitually cushioned their sleep with each other’s bodies, in lieu of proper beds- but now his company unpleasantly resembled a load of freshly-raked coals. Growling slightly without waking, the other boy rolled over, arching his back against Nux’s spine. Nux in turn rolled onto the stone surface beneath his flattened mattress, hoping for its coolness to soak into him and douse the internal flames.

       It wasn’t until shivers seized Nux that he recognized the heat for what it was. His teeth chattered so loudly that he was surprised no one around him roused. _Another fever._ Well, at least it wasn’t Larry and Barry this time. At least Nux hadn’t woken gasping for air, clawing at his throat and trying to breathe deeply enough to call for help. But a fever was still an ignoble way to go. Over the years, he’d become used to the pain, but flashes of existential fear still ignited him.

       _No one will witness me if I die like this._ A soft death would serve no one, least of all Immortan Joe. Instead of a hero, Nux would only be remembered as a pathetic half-life who gave up the ghost in a pitiful overnight struggle.

       How long would it take to be forgotten? _Days? Hours? Minutes?_

       Sweating now from the anxious knot in his stomach as well as his sickness, Nux attempted to return to his mattress, only to find that the War Boy he’d elbowed had claimed it. That boy's mattress must have been empty, but Nux didn’t feel up to searching around for it in the dark. Instead he hugged his knees to his chest, squeezing himself into as tight a ball as he could manage. He felt like an overheating engine, on the verge of meltdown. Sleep would be a long time in coming, which was the _worst_ aspect of having stupid night fevers. There was nothing to do when awake but feel sorry for himself.

       _Why was I born a fleshbag?_ Surely it was a high honor to drive and attend to the Citadel’s vehicles, but more often Nux wished he could become one. To transform into something powerful and formidable, like the War Rig that the Imperators took turns driving. Or maybe something small yet elegant, like a motorbike. Something powered by a purring engine, not a heart, that pumped guzzoline instead of blood. When its parts wore out, they’d be replaced with ones that worked good as new. Not like a half-life, whose deformities would never be erased, doomed to grow increasingly decrepit before finally sputtering out…

       In the corner of Nux’s vision, a figure stirred in the darkness. “Hey…” a familiar voice rasped. “What’s the matter with you?”

        _Ugh._ Of all the War Boys who had to wake up, it was _Slit._ It wasn’t that Nux hated him or anything- Slit was Nux’s lancer and Nux was Slit’s driver, after all- but on nights like this, he could be unbearable. Sure enough, when Slit’s query was met only with shivering, Slit grinned evilly, the scars on his face distending his mouth into a monstrous shape.

      “Havin’ another fever? Sucks for Nux. Guess you’re not gonna die historic after all.”

       “Shut up, Slit,” Nux barked, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Saliva welled in his mouth, and his stomach clenched tighter. _No…_ he couldn’t let the nausea win, _what a waste of food…_

       “What’s the problem?” Slit hissed, as if he genuinely had no idea. “Poor Nuxy’s upset cause he’s not going to Valhalla?”

      “Shut _up!”_ For a second Nux had half a mind to get up and smack Slit, but he knew he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d probably get dizzy and fall down, or hurl all over Slit… which sounded like payback, actually, but he didn’t want to wake tomorrow with an empty belly. And Slit would get _angry._ A punch in the face was warranted, but anything further and Slit’d be out for blood.

       _He’s just toughening me up._ Or so Nux liked to think. There was no point to Slit’s idiotic behavior otherwise, though he was far from the first Way Boy to act that way. Even Nux had joined in once, hurling taunts at a sickly new recruit- _“No one’s gonna want you in Valhalla! You’re gonna die soft and shriveled and WEAK!”_ It was a way to keep each other on their toes, prepared to go the distance no matter how far. But as Nux grew sicker, and his mates began to drop like flies, the nightly taunting came across as more mean-spirited than anything. Slit was the only one who still kept it up, long after the joke had worn off.

       “Your head hurt, Nuxy?” Slit moaned, adopting a cloyingly sympathetic tone. “Are you gonna be sick? Why don’t you go whimper to the Organic about it? He’ll fix you right up… unless, of course, you don’t live to see tomorrow.”

       Rather than respond, Nux grabbed his rolled-up clothing from his mattress, which had served as a makeshift pillow, and shoved it over his head. Slit’s obnoxious, goonish teasing became muffled, nothing more than a pesky insect buzzing near Nux’s ears. It wasn’t ideal sleeping conditions, but really, when was it ever? At least he _had_ a place to sleep, and a roof over his head, which was a whole lot more than the pitiful wretched who lived outside the Citadel had to their name.

        Nux had almost succeeded in reaching the threshold of sleep when his ears picked up the word- _Mediocre._

“What?” Abandoning his pillow-turned-earplugs, Nux forced himself to raise his head to address Slit, even though doing so made the room spin wildly around him. Slit stared back, still wearing that sickly grin.

       “I said you’re gonna die mediocre, Nux. If you make it on the road at all. You don’t want to end up like that wrinkly-faced lancer who works on the War Rig, do ya?” Slit adopted a dangerous sing-song voice. “Denied by the Immorta and unworthy of even a soft death. You better watch out, Nuxy, ‘cause one day that could be _you.”_

Ordinarily, horror filled Nux at the thought of ending up like the old crewman. Speculation ran rampant as to why he hadn’t achieved a glorious death in his youth, much of which induced nightmares. But Slit’s prior comment left him boiling. Why did Slit insist on spilling such shit night after night, for only his own amusement? _He’s lucky he never says this to me during the day._ If he had, he’d be flat on his ass in an instant.

       “What are you saying?” Nux protested. “My death won’t be mediocre!” His stomach churned as if filled with writhing, smoldering steel. _Yes, yes!_ That’d show Slit who’s boss!

       “I’m gonna die _historic!_ Do you hear me?! _Historic!!_ The Immorta will summon me to the gates of Valhalla!”

        Nux wanted to say more, but suddenly the churning in his stomach rose to his throat and he doubled over, coughing up what little he’d consumed during the day. At first he was angry that the sickness had gotten to him, but when he had finished, he felt as if the anger had been wrung out of him, along with his strength. The defiance to prove Slit wrong still burned hot in his chest, though.

       _I’ll show him. I’ll show ALL of them…_ Nux’s heartbeat slowed, and a shiver ran through him. His eyes fluttered shut.

After a while, images began to move against Nux’s closed eyelids, so vibrant that he might as well have been wide awake. All things considered, the dreams that accompanied night fevers weren’t so bad. If they had been the only symptom, Nux would have gladly taken it.

       Once again, Nux’s body heat transforms into searing sunlight on his flesh. But this time… This time he feels a breeze through the wide-open windows of his car. He has no idea what car it is- his name isn’t inscribed on the brake. But that doesn’t matter, as long as it can _move._ He’s gunning it, pedal to the metal, leading an entire fleet of War Boys into long-awaited battle. An aggressive guitar riff from the Doof-Wagon drifts past his ears, spiking his adrenaline. Filling his lungs without any hindrance, Nux lets out an exuberant yell. _Onwards! To glorious Valhalla!!_

As he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, the dream changes, or rather jumps ahead. The heat intensifies as the flaming wreckage of a car sails right over Nux’s vehicle. He wants to leap out of the driver’s seat in a frenzy. _SLIT! Did you see that?!_ Hopefully Slit hasn’t been knocked off the rear lancer’s perch, at least not without being witnessed. The air rings with shouting and gunshots.

       A monstrous form stretches up ahead on the right-hand side, and Nux gapes openly. It’s a massive dome-shaped vehicle, outfitted with treaded wheels and studded with holes through which its crew can peer. Snipers hang off the sides, rifles at the ready, prepared to fire at anyone who dares to claim their property. But they won’t touch Nux. _Not me!_ He grabs his bottle of chrome substance and sprays it in his face, inhaling its lovely scent as his heartbeat accelerates. _Death to those who defy the Immortan!_ And death to Nux as well, in the process. He’s never been readier for it.

        Nux veers over, ramming the mountainous vehicle hard in the side. It crumbles beneath him like flesh penetrated by a bullet. For a second he’s screaming, half giddy and half terrified, before the flames overtake him and his body collapses into ash. But it’s all right, because the enemy vehicle is in ashes as well. The cries of the War Boys fill his ears- _WITNESSED!_

       Finally, the dream takes Nux to a landscape he’s pictured too many times to count- the shining, chrome domain of Valhalla. Fallen War Boys flock to the gates as they open for him, and he staggers to his knees in awe. All of history’s greatest heroes are there, towering above him like giants, and at the head of it all is Immortan Joe himself, radiating pure love and approval. He extends a hand, and they walk through the gates side by side.

      The indulgent fantasy was hardly original. Nux suspected it rattled around the heads of every War Boy in existence. But he depended on it to put a fire in his belly, spurring him on as much as it comforted.

       Who cared about his sweaty, trembling body and its constant needs, from fresh blood to precious water? _I won’t have to bother with that when I reach Valhalla_. And that was really the only reason to feel glad about being half-life. Sure, full-lives were given more time to fight and worship. Only full-lives were made Imperators and assigned to drive the War Rig. But they had nothing like Valhalla to look forward to. In a way, it was only fair. _They’ve got all the time in the world. They don’t need more of it after death._

On and on Nux’s fantasy number rolled, until the fever subsided early in the morning, and he praised his gods for sparing him. Another day was dawning, and maybe this time, it would be _his_ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter title comes from the song in Steven Universe. No, I have no shame. :P


	2. Lovely No More

       _Mediocre!_

The word resounded through Nux’s brain, emerging every few seconds as if following the rhythm of a war chant. He wanted to cringe away from it, but it seemed to have invaded him. _Mediocre! MEDICORE!_

It should have been his moment in the sun. Immortan Joe himself had sprayed chrome in Nux’s face and personally assured him that he was awaited. He’d been watching, which meant, in a way, that the world was watching. And Nux had blown it.

       He’d managed to return to the War Rig, but now that he’d lost the Immortan’s attention, did it even _matter_ whether or not he took down the Imperator? Frantically Nux grasped at the last embers of his hope. The Gigahorse remained close by, and the road war was still raging. Maybe, if Nux was lucky, he’d have a chance to redeem himself in Immortan Joe’s eyes. He couldn’t fight against six with his bare hands, having already been thrown off the rig in his first attempt. But if he could get to the engine, he might be able to do some damage. Though slowing the traitors down hardly seemed worth destroying such a priceless machine. And he wouldn’t be around to oversee its repairs at the Cita-

       The War Rig swerved, and Nux swerved with it, his head colliding against the wall. _What’s going on??_ The Gigahorse was directly behind the War Rig, and when Nux looked closely through its windscreen, he thought he met Immortan Joe's penetrating gaze. But the Immortan wasn't focused on him- rather, at a spot further in the distance. Nux craned his neck around to see what had fascinated the Immortan, right as two objects tumbled past from the Rig. A side door, and a woman.

       The Gigahorse veered violently off-road, crushing the woman beneath its massive weight. Before Nux had time to breathe, it and its riders had shrunk into the distance. Nux turned away, blood pounding in his ears.

        That hadn’t been _any_ woman who’d fallen. That was the same one who’d thrown him off the War Rig and demanded he tell her who killed the world. She was the Splendid One, one of Immortan Joe’s breeders, and most importantly, the bearer of his child. And she’d gone under the wheels.

       _He wanted her back alive!_ Alive, to birth a healthy child, the continuation of his esteemed lineage. But now both mother and child were doomed, the other breeders had escaped, and the traitorous Imperator was still at large.

       With help from the _bloodbag,_ no less! Imagine a bloodbag getting to drive the War Rig, when Nux had never touched its steering wheel!

       _And worst of all…_ Nux sunk to the floor, dazed and shaking. Immortan Joe had _seen_ it. He _knew_ it was Nux’s bloodbag. He knew Nux had done nothing to stop the tragedy from happening. All Nux had wanted to do was honor the Immortan, but he’d only made a complete fool out of himself. He’d been wrong- there was no way to recover himself now. To the Immortan, he might as well be nonexistent.

       Rage suddenly swelled inside of Nux, and he lashed out, hitting the solid floor with his fists. All this because he’d decided to take his bloodbag to war with him! If only the breeders hadn’t broken the chain that connected them. He wouldn’t have tripped when boarding the War Rig, and he certainly wouldn’t have given the bloodbag the opportunity to usurp his rightful place in the driver’s seat.

       But then again, Nux wouldn’t have lasted a mile on the Fury Road without his bloodbag. Which clearly meant that, for the benefit of everyone, he shouldn’t have been there at all. The thought was soul-sucking, a great black hole opening in his chest to engulf the last cinders of his rage. _It’s my fault. I did everything wrong… Slit was right! They shouldn’t have let me do war!_

All those lies he’d fed to himself… going on and on about how he was destined for greatness, how the Immorta in Valhalla awaited him with open arms. _BULLSHIT!!_ He should have known better- in fact, _had_ known better, since the day he’d given Larry and Barry their names. Nux was good for nothing but a slow, unmentionable death, rotting away without a legacy or so much as a single story in remembrance.

       _It’s not fair._ Nux’s throat clenched as tears stung his eyes. _Today was supposed to be MY day._

He wasn’t aware of much but his own misery for the next few moments, until a smooth pair of feet appeared in the upper region of his blurred vision. An equally smooth voice murmured, “What are you doing here?”

       Glancing up, Nux discovered a woman. She was another one of Immortan Joe’s treasures, the one whose outfit Nux had torn as he was thrown from the War Rig. Her skin was as pure as Aqua-Cola, and her hair, plaited on each side, was blood-red. Bathed in light from the setting sun, she was startlingly beautiful. But Nux couldn’t care less.

        “He saw it.” The words came forth unbidden. It didn’t matter whether Nux’s audience of one stayed to listen, or tossed him out of the Rig once again. _Nothing_ mattered anymore.

       “He saw it all. My own bloodbag, driving the Rig that killed her.” Fresh tears welled in Nux’s eyes as the shame overwhelmed him anew. Why didn’t she just throw him overboard right now and be _done_ with it? Go ahead and run him over the same way they’d run over Splendid. It was a fitting end to a worthless, _mediocre_ fleshbag.

       With that, Immortan Joe’s voice echoed through Nux’s memory -  _MEDIOCRE! MEDIOCRE… Ugh!_ It was too much to stand. Desperate to drive the voice away, Nux banged his head against the floor- once, twice, then many times. _Mediocre… Mediocre…_ Just get it _out._ Banish that powerful voice, the one Nux would obey to the ends of the earth, expressing nothing but singular disappointment…

      “Stop doing that!” The runaway breeder’s voice cut through the voice in Nux’s head- a welcome, if fleeting, reprieve. He felt a touch at his head and realized she was cupping him with her palm. Slowly the surprise of her touch drove away his pain, if only for a few seconds. If he’d laid a hand on one of the breeders at the Citadel, Immortan Joe would likely have killed him on sight. Coveting them was almost as shaming as failing to die historic. But now one of them was touching Nux of her own volition, as if he were worthy of it…

       _No._ No, he wasn’t worthy at all. As if her fingertips had picked up the thought, the breeder withdrew her hand, and though Nux knew he deserved what he got, he felt as if his bloodbag had punched him in the stomach all over again.

       “Three times the gates were open to me,” he murmured, voice thick with self-pity.

        “What gates?” the breeder murmured.

       _She doesn’t know?_ How could she be wed to the Immortan and _not_ know…?

      “I was awaited in Valhalla,” Nux tried to explain. “They were calling my name…” Oh, how could he have turned his back and left them hanging? _I should have fought harder. I should have-_

“I should be walking with the Immorta, McFeasting with the heroes of all time.” Not lying here, a weak and pathetic half-life whose time was surely drawing to a close.

        Nux expected the breeder to abandon him the instant he admitted to his failure, but to his utter disbelief, she lay down beside him. _She_ who had helped throw him from the War Rig into the sand! What could she possibly gain from staying with him?

       “I’d say it was your manifest destiny not to,” she said, and if Nux hadn’t been so distraught he might have laughed. Not because it was funny, though. As it was, he didn’t think he could fall apart any further than he already had.

      _This_ was his _destiny?!_ Dying alone and unwitnessed, held captive by the very property he’d promised to return to the Immortan? What twisted god would allow such a thing to happen?

       “I thought I was being spared for something great,” Nux whispered. “I got to- drive a pursuit vehicle… For a while even Larry and Barry stopped chewing on my windpipe.” The thought brought him the barest sliver of satisfaction. Even if his story was meant to end here, at least it wouldn’t be Larry and Barry’s fault. He hoped.

       “Who are Larry and Barry?”

      “My mates.” Nux pointed to them on his neck. “Larry and Barry.”  The shred of satisfaction subsided as he came to realize that he was still trapped inside his body. What was he thinking? Of _course_ it would be Larry and Barry’s fault. He’d be a fool to try to escape them.

       “If they don’t get me, then the night fevers will.” Either way, it was the end of Nux. The gates of Valhalla were eternally closed to him from now on.

       The runaway breeder didn’t say a word. Her eyes were strangely soft, without a hint of malice or fear. Nothing like the way she’d looked at him before, and definitely not like the chrome-infused, kamikrazy glint in the eyes of Nux’s fellow War Boys. He nearly stopped breathing as she reached out and brushed her fingers against his scarred lips, as if trying to clean up the dried chrome. Then she touched his cheek, wiping away the tears that he’d spilled, and though it felt… good?... Nux was overtaken with sudden fear. Why was she _doing_ this? She must have some sort of plan…

        But how could anyone hide behind eyes as gentle as hers?

       When she spoke, Nux startled.

       “Then why do you want to go to Valhalla so badly?”

       It took Nux a second to remember what she was referring to. Somehow, she  _still_ didn’t understand.

       “It’s the only way for someone like me. If I’m gonna die…” Nux’s earlier words to Slit flooded back to him, along with a wave of humiliation. He’d been so boastful, so sure that he would end up in Valhalla, and for his pride he’d been punished.

       “I was supposed to die historic. Not soft and slow, back at the Citadel. If the road’s a dead end, I’m gonna ride down it full throttle.”

       “But why would you hasten it?” The breeder’s voice was still quiet, but her words carried an undercurrent of tension, which spiked Nux’s nerves. He watched her hands form fists. “You said it yourself. You’re a half-life. Death could come at any moment, and you run to it with open arms!”

        “For the _glory!”_ Nux didn’t know why he was bothering to explain, but he couldn’t believe that she was so ignorant of his existence. “To praise and honor the Immortan, by whose hand we’ll all be lifted up!” _All of us… except me._ And maybe not the breeders, come to think of it. They had willfully turned their backs on him. Maybe that was why this one didn’t realize the importance of Valhalla. Her departure baffled Nux, now that he’d stopped to think about it. To spend so much time in private with such a great man, only to deny and denounce him… What could have possibly driven her away?

         She didn’t seem impressed with Nux’s words. If anything, she grew upset.

       “He’s not as powerful as you think, War Boy,” the breeder whispered. “If he were really one of the Immorta, he wouldn’t need to breed us for an heir. He wouldn’t have dared to enter the wasteland, just to retrieve us, if Angharad wasn’t-” 

       She broke off and rolled onto her back, taking in a ragged breath and blinking hard. Nux was amazed to see tears glisten in her eyes. What was wrong? _Breed us… Angharad?…_ Splendid!

       Was she crying over Splendid’s death? The thought was difficult to comprehend. Death was something to be exalted, if one went out in a blaze on the Fury Road, or a perma-failure to bemoan if one didn’t. Nux couldn’t imagine Slit or any of the other War Boys weeping over his body. They’d salute him if he reached Valhalla, or spit on him if he failed, and that would be the end.

       Either way… no one would miss him.

        _No one will miss me._

       Nux was suddenly overtaken with the desire to do something for the breeder, to make her feel better, though he had no idea what to do or how to do it. He reached forward to cup her face, the way she’d done to him, but she flinched away and his fingertips only grazed her cheek. Perhaps she had wised up, remembering the harm that could be done if the Immortan caught her with Nux. But somehow he felt that such threats were the last thing on her mind. She no longer belonged to Immortan Joe- and now, neither did Nux.

       “My name is Nux.” He had nothing else to offer her. She turned her head, her lips quivering into a heartbroken, dazzling smile.

       “I’m Capable.”


	3. Bloodbag

       Nux had known as soon as the bloodbag punched him in the gut that it wasn’t a cooperative sort. True, few bloodbags were, but they usually spent their time dangling from the ceiling of the blood bank with their hands tied behind their backs. No matter how loudly they screamed and yelled, they couldn’t actually attack him. Nux had sensed, though, that setting this one loose would be a risky maneuver. Especially considering its muzzle, worn to keep it from snapping at sick War Boys in need of its oozing red bounty. It was, as Slit had said, a raging feral, which went a long way in explaining why it did things such as refuse to turn in the Imperator after capturing her, or assume command of the stolen War Rig. The bloodbag’s sole motive seemed to be: _Every maniac for themselves._

Therefore, Nux didn’t think much of it when the bloodbag decided to run off into the mist, in pursuit of the Bullet Farmer. Maybe it would come back, and maybe it wouldn’t. Bloodbags were not awaited in Valhalla and didn’t need to be witnessed. Nux didn’t expect its return, impressive though it was, to stir much emotion- until the bloodbag tossed two items Nux’s way. The Bullet Farmer’s wheel, and a lone boot. Nux’s heart skipped a beat when he caught it.

       A boot…? He’d noticed upon waking after the sand storm- which now felt like forever ago- that he was missing one, and concluded that the bloodbag had stolen it. There hadn’t been much time to try and steal it back. Having one foot bare was nothing more than a pinprick compared to the great shame of failing the Immortan. Until the bloodbag handed over the boot, it hadn’t even occurred to Nux that he needed one.

        _Of all the things it could have done…_ There was no reason for the bloodbag to get a boot for Nux. The wheel was necessary to drive the Rig, but Nux had gone barefoot in the wasteland more times than he could count, building up tough calluses as a form of protection. He’d managed to hold his own this long on the Fury Road with only one. Of course, two were more comfortable, but what use was _comfort_ in the middle of the battle of his lifetime? And why should the _bloodbag_ care? Until now it hadn’t shown interest in anyone or anything, and Nux hadn’t expected it to.

       The confusing thoughts hurt Nux’s head- or maybe that was the onset of his nightly sickness. He told himself not to dwell on them. Yet once everyone was back onboard the War Rig, safe and sound, and they’d left the haunted crow-place far behind them, the questions lashed at him, and his headache returned. _Why did it do this for me? What was the point?_ Why was Nux so fixated on determining the bloodbag’s motivation? Maybe the madness in its blood had affected him. Still, madness or not, Nux felt he had to talk about it, with the only person he expected to listen.

       Conveniently, the Imperator and the bloodbag had traded places upon leaving the crow-place. Nux leaned forward a centimeter, trying to judge if the bloodbag was asleep or not. Its breathing seemed too shallow, but its limbs were all relaxed, instead of bunched-up and on guard like they’d been every time Nux had previously observed it. He decided to take the chance.

       “Look.” Nux nudged the red-haired woman beside him- _Capable,_ he reminded himself. _Ca-pa-ble_. She stirred, half asleep, blinking blearily and muttering something that sounded like, “What’s it, Nux?”

       “Bloodbag got me new shoes.” Nux pointed to them, trying to smile, and Capable’s gaze followed his motion. “See?”

       “Mm… Nice.”

       Though Nux hadn’t asked for appreciation, a warm thrill went through him nonetheless. Capable liked them, Capable approved… But it wasn’t enough to drown out the confusion pulsing inside his head.

       “Why d’you think it did that?” Nux whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep from waking the bloodbag, or to keep from disturbing the rest of the wives. Not all of them were asleep, and not all of them seemed as kind as Capable.

        “It didn’t have to get me a boot. I didn’t need one that badly. But it did. Bloodbags aren’t supposed to do things like that.”

       Nux trailed off, noticing Capable’s furrowed brow, and her teeth resting slightly on her lower lip. He must have said something wrong. She was looking at him like she intensely disagreed with him, but didn’t quite have the strength to say so.

       “He’s not a thing, Nux,” Capable finally breathed. “He’s a person. Just like you, and just like me.”

       _What? “Not a thing…”_

      _That’s silly,_ Nux wanted to say, _I wasn’t calling it a-_ And that was when it hit him.

       _It,_ he had said. All of the War Boys called their bloodbags _it._ They were a source of energy to be used and reused until they were finally drained dry. Why should they be called anything else?

       But Capable had said _he. He_ was a man. A man who could fire guns, drive a War Rig, and punch Nux in the stomach. A man who could retrieve a boot for him. A man, just like Nux.

       And if this bloodbag was a man, that meant-

       Nux swallowed a horrified gasp. _“No.”_

“What?” said Capable.

       At first he didn’t want to tell her, because what would she think of him? But then he remembered she’d been there when he’d tried, several times, to kill the Imperator, and yet she’d still lain at his side and stroked his face, so maybe what he’d done didn’t matter. To her, anyway.

       “I’ve drained so many bloodbags,” he told Capable in a frantic whisper. “I needed it… I didn’t think they were… people…”

       Some level of Nux’s consciousness acknowledged that it was strange to feel guilty now. He’d killed before out in the wasteland- had helped Slit kill the buzzards tailing them on the Fury Road that very day- and he’d felt proud, even envious, to watch others kill. Usually, it was to ensure the Citadel’s survival. And draining the bloodbags was no different, because he wouldn’t be able to defend the Citadel if he died soft. But now it _was_ different, because his bloodbags weren’t just faceless scavengers. They were people who cared enough about him to get him a boot when he was missing one.

       For a split-second Nux felt that he would be sick. He hoped that meant he was suffering from a night fever and not that he was losing his wits. But the sensation wasn’t merely physical. He felt as if the Immortan himself had reprimanded him in front of all his fellow War Boys. _This isn’t right._ Nux had taken so much from the man in the front seat, from his blood to his jacket to the car that he’d promised to upgrade for Slit, and somehow he’d never realized how _wrong_ it was to do so…

       Then Capable stroked Nux’s arm, dragging him away from his remorse. She waited for him to meet her eyes before speaking.

       “You were just as much a prisoner as they were. As we were. As…” Silently, Capable cast her gaze to the driver’s seat, where Imperator Furiosa was guiding the War Rig along the road. Nux stared at the back of her head, blinking in surprise. He’d regarded the Imperator as many things- a bold leader, a sacrilegious traitor- but the word _prisoner_ had never sprung to mind.

        Capable continued, and her soft voice reminded Nux of the pounding drums and fiery guitar that sustained him when he was riding with the rest of his war party. “You didn’t know any better. If Immortan Joe had told you that the sky was red, you would have believed him. But now that you’re here with… with us, you don’t have to live under his influence anymore. You get a fresh start.”

       Nux turned to liquid at Capable’s words. She was so well-spoken, almost Immortan Joe's equal when it came to her way with words. He noticed that a few strands of her bright hair had escaped her braids, and reached up to brush them behind her ear.

       “Is that why you left?” he asked. Funny to say _left_ and not _escaped._ As if Capable and the other women could have walked out of the Citadel at any time. “Did you want a fresh start?”

       “Of a sort,” Capable sighed. “Immortan Joe thought he was giving us that fresh start, but he was wrong. We left to show we didn’t need him to tell us who we are. We were never made to be his playthings.”

       _Not things…_ The words echoing through Nux’s head reminded him again of the bloodbag- no, the _man_ sitting beside Furiosa. He realized he still hadn’t received an answer to his question.

       Nux lowered his voice. “So why d’you think he got me my boot?” He gestured to the front seat. “I took so much from him… He has no business giving anything away.”

       Capable pursed her lips and _hmmm_ ed through her nose. “I don’t know… Maybe some people- the best sort of people- are kind when they have no reason to be.” Again she glanced toward the driver’s seat, but Nux wasn’t sure if he was meant to notice her gaze.

        A small shiver of fear went through him. What if Capable was like that? What if she had only treated him kindly because she was kind to everyone? But then Capable gathered Nux’s hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, and his fear evaporated.

        His thoughts strayed one last time to the man whose blood he’d stolen. Was there a way to make up for what he had done? Would the man even accept his attempt?

        “How can I make it better?” Nux breathed softly.

       “Make what better?” asked Capable.

       _“Him.”_ Nux’s mind raced as he flipped through various scenarios. Most of them ended with another punch bestowed on him. “What can I do for him, to show that I’m not… I’m not…” He couldn’t finish the thought. His whole life up to this point had been a matter of identifying who he _was-_ driver, half-life, kamikrazy War Boy. What did he have without those things? What _wasn’t_ he?

Capable’s response was a sleepy reproach. “You could always just say you’re sorry.”

       Nux wasn’t sure if she was making a joke, but as she’d spoken so matter-of-factly, he couldn’t imagine that she was.

       “You think… you think that’d work?”

      “Mm-hmm.” Capable let go of Nux’s hand to stretch her arms around him. “It’s better than saying nothing at all.”

       With Capable in his arms, Nux was overwhelmed. She was so soft, so smooth… so shiny. He rested his chin on the top of her head, afraid that she was going to pull away at any second. But she stayed where she was for several long moments, before eventually withdrawing and settling back against his shoulder to sleep. In no time, Nux joined her.

*

       By morning, curiosity about the Green Place had established itself as Nux’s dominant emotion. By mid-morning and into the afternoon, a somber feeling had supplanted said curiosity. It wasn’t until evening, when their makeshift group scattered and the warrior women they’d met took Furiosa aside, that Nux remembered what he and Capable had talked about in the War Rig the night before. The former bloodbag had left their gathering when Furiosa did, although he’d headed in the direction opposite from her. When Capable became occupied with conversation, Nux got up to see if he could find him.

       After all that had happened since the conclusion of War Rig’s journey, Nux found himself hesitant to speak with the man. Surely his unpleasant experience as a bloodbag paled beside the crushing loss of the Green Place. But _he_ hadn’t been invested in finding the Green Place, not in the way the women were. Besides… It had _happened,_ and Nux was ashamed that it had, and waiting any longer would only strengthen the feeling.

       The man had settled beside the War Rig. At first Nux couldn’t tell what he was doing there, but as he came closer he saw the man prick his hand with the same needle that had been embedded in his flesh the day before. The gesture was clearly intentional, which puzzled Nux. He’d already taken so much of the man’s blood, and here he was voluntarily draining it?

       “Hey, bl-” he began, before catching himself. “Hey… Hey, you.” That didn’t sound much better. He ought to use the man’s name. Unfortunately he didn’t know it, but the man looked up anyway before Nux could make a wild, likely inaccurate guess. He grunted in acknowledgement, looking far from overjoyed that Nux was coming to see him. _Oh, well._ Maybe apologizing to him would lighten the mood. However, Nux was fixated on the man’s blood.

       “What’re you doing there?” Nux gestured to the place where the man had cut himself. He backed away slightly, a tight edginess ringing his eyes.

       After a couple seconds, it was clear that the man wasn’t keen on answering, so Nux forced himself to abandon his curiosity. He took a deep breath, not sure how to start. “Um… Seems a shame to waste your blood like that.” Again he gestured awkwardly towards the man’s hand.

       The man’s eyes hardened. Even without speaking, the message was clear. _You took my blood, and now you’re concerned about wasting it?_

But that wasn’t fair. Nux hadn’t wasted this man’s blood; he’d _needed_ it to go out and do war… He was half-inclined to defend his name again the unspoken accusation, before remembering that wasn’t what he had come over to say. The point wasn’t that Nux had needed the man’s blood. The point was that the man hadn’t been offering it in the first place. Just like Capable had said, he wasn’t a _thing_ to use up, as if he lacked feeling and opinions. And now Nux needed to make up for treating him as such.

       But how was he supposed to find the right words? He turned away from the man, wishing that Capable had told him what to say. The man moved away too, apparently deciding that Nux wasn’t worth his time. Out of the corner of his eye, Nux saw him lift a blade and begin to work it against his clothing. This action was even more mystifying, considering how highly he’d seemed to value his jacket. Maybe the same didn’t go for the rest of his clothes. It reminded Nux of the scrap of fabric he’d wound around his wrist- Capable’s fabric- and absently he picked at it.

       After a moment of standing, uncomfortably aware of the distance between them, Nux decided to give it his best shot. He’d start out with something else and work his way up to the apology.

       “Thanks for the boot,” he said, sticking his leg out so that the man could see it, if he wanted to. “Fits real well.”

       The man glanced at him, not exactly intrigued but not entirely hostile, either.

       “Too bad you lost yours.” Briefly Nux hesitated; Slit was the one who’d taken the man’s boot, not him. Should he apologize for that too? _…Maybe not._ He took another deep breath.

       “I’m sorry I took your jacket. I didn’t know you wanted it. And…” Again Nux wavered, speechless. How could he describe the way his vision had transformed the bloodbag into a person? This man had never wanted to be a bloodbag. It wouldn’t sound like much to him, because he’d always known he was a person. (Or had he…?)

       “And, well.” Nux’s words rushed out like the fountain of Aqua-Cola that Immortan Joe habitually shared with the Citadel’s wretched. “I don’t think I’d have made it without your blood, but if I could I’d give it all back.” He stared up at the stars stretching before him and scratched an itch on his head. It was surprising to realize how much he meant it. “Um… No hard feelings, right?”

       Part of Nux expected to receive another incredulous glare, but the look that the man gave him was hard to decipher. He wasn’t sure if the man himself could decipher his emotions. Then Nux noticed the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, like the vaguest remnant of a smile. He held out the hand that he hadn’t bloodied, palm up, and it was Nux’s turn to stare incredulously. The last time he’d touched the man, he’d been stripped of a jacket and punched hard enough to leave a bruise.

       _No hard feelings…_ Since the man was offering, Nux grasped his hand and pumped it the way he and Slit sometimes did after a successful mission. He found himself grinning. The man withdrew shortly, but for a split second- just a split second- his guard was down. He likely hadn’t forgiven Nux, but he recognized his effort, which had to be _something_.

       Nux cleared his throat. “Well.” He looked around, suddenly anxious to return to Capable and tell her what had happened. “Glad we, uh, got that settled.” It felt strange not to address the man by name, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to test his luck. For all he knew, the man’s name was a secret, and it wasn’t his place to ask for it.

        The man nodded, but he wasn’t looking at Nux. Instead his attention had returned to the cut on his hand, which he pricked again to make the blood flow anew. What _was_ he doing? Trying to create a scar like the ones the War Boys wore? _What’s the point? No one’s going to notice it much on the hand. Try the chest or shoulders, maybe forearm…_

Nux made his way back to where the women had scattered. He was surprised to find he felt a great deal better than he had last night when talking to Capable. She’d been right- even though he couldn’t make up for the bloodbags he’d killed in the past, an apology to one still living was more than enough. And he’d made a new ally, too.


	4. 'Til Death Do We Part

       “The ancients believed that the stars formed pictures in the sky,” Capable said. Her arm wound around Nux’s neck, and he eagerly leaned into the contact. His eyes swept the sky above and the seemingly random pattern of stars sprinkled across it. He’d never paid much attention to the night sky before Capable pointed it out, but now he couldn’t look away. How vast it was, stretching wide to cover the landscape just like the blanket that covered Capable’s shoulders. Part of Nux longed for a joyride after seeing it. War Boys weren’t permitted to drive at night, and he was usually too sick to do so besides. Imagine how shine it would be to try now! But another part of him was perfectly fine sitting in the back of the Rig with Capable beside him, sharing the heat of her body and breathing quietly in unison with her.

       _Strange…_ Up to now, Nux hadn’t thought that anything could get better than driving on the Fury Road. In one day alone he’d made it through a sandstorm, defeated Imperator Furiosa in a fight, and even driven the War Rig. But sitting with Capable brought a different kind of joy. Not an exhilarating, self-destructive kind, but something sweeter. Something peaceful.

       “Pictures?” Nux murmured. “How so?” The myriad stars looked like nothing more than specks. He squinted, trying to conjure up something out of the massive nothing.

       “To draw them, they would trace lines between the stars,” Capable explained. Her hand shot up, demonstrating with her fingers. “Look. Those three stars, up there… That’s the belt of a warrior they called Orion.”

       Nux followed the direction where Capable was pointing, and picked out three stars from the overhead cluster. Now he was beginning to understand. When the scars on his chest had been formed, the Organic Mechanic had made preliminary marks on his skin before cutting, so that every line would be straight and the detailing would be as accurate as possible. Had the ancients ever imagined V8 engines in the sky?

       “What other pictures did they make?” Nux asked, thirsting for more knowledge.

       “I think most were warriors.” Capable lowered her hand, resting it in Nux’s lap. He gently brushed his fingers against it.

       “They had gods, too. Old gods. Not like your Immorta.”

       _So no V8s, then._ Nux found it difficult to wrap his mind around the concept of gods older than the Immorta. How could they exist if he’d never been told about them? However, he didn’t doubt that Capable knew what she was talking about. She spoke with such confidence, as if she’d glimpsed the future and refused to let it worry her.

        Nux was about to ask Capable where she had learned about the ancients, when the vibrations from a person climbing up the War Rig froze his tongue. He watched as the newcomer approached, her purposeful, humorless stance revealing her as Imperator Furiosa. Was she angry to find him with Capable? Nux glanced over, but Capable didn’t seem to be concerned. If anything, she snuggled even closer to Nux as she calmly met the Imperator’s gaze.

        “Furiosa.”

       Furiosa halted directly in front of them, blotting out the stars. Her eyes glinted like a car’s steel frame.

       “I’ve reached an agreement with the Vuvalini,” she said. “They’ve got enough bikes for each of us, if we double up, and enough fuel to last 160 days. We’ll ride to the edges of the salt. You’ll be safe out there.”

       Nux glanced at Capable to see if she accepted the plan. The glimmer of starlight in her eyes swept him away.

        “Thank you so much,” Capable breathed. “Furiosa… even though we didn’t find your Green Place, you must understand how much you’ve helped us. I don’t think we can ever repay you for your compassion.”

        “No need,” Furiosa murmured. Her eyes shifted to Nux, and a shiver ran through him. Under Furiosa’s gaze, Nux felt like a desert lizard being inspected by a couple of hungry scavengers, who were debating on the best way to dice him up.

       Capable must have felt Nux shiver, because she squeezed his hand and stared up at Furiosa, even though Furiosa was no longer looking at her. “What about Nux?”

       Furiosa’s passionless gaze flickered from Nux to Capable. The question ignited Nux’s mind. Yes, what _about_ Nux?

       “He’s proven himself as an asset to us,” Capable said. “He knows just as much about engines as you do, and he’s a trained warrior. Besides, you can’t send him back to the Citadel. Immortan Joe will not welcome him there. The only other option is to abandon him to the wasteland.”

       Again Furiosa pinned Nux with her hard stare. Nux stared right back, refusing to let her intimidate him. _Surely not even Furiosa is so heartless as to leave me behind…_

“You’re right,” Furiosa said at last, apparently having evaluated Nux and determining his strengths greater than his weaknesses. “He’s reliable, and if he wants to come with us, we won’t turn him away.”

       “Nux?” Capable’s arm shifted from Nux’s shoulders to his back. Her fingers rested in the space between his shoulder blades, close enough to touch his brand if she wanted.

       “Will you join us?” she said softly, as if they were discussing the matter in private instead of in front of Furiosa. “We could ride double. You’d be the driver… We could start a new life- me and you, and Toast and Cheedo and the Dag, and the Vuvalini…”

        If Capable hadn’t said a word, Nux would have answered positively in a heartbeat. However, the words _new life_ brought him up short. He wavered for a bit under the pressure, before addressing Furiosa.

       “Uh... is it all right if I think about it first?”

       Furiosa didn’t seem surprised to hear Nux’s lack of a decision, but then again, Nux was hard-pressed to dream up a situation that _would_ surprise her. She dipped her head and left the Rig. When her back had retreated far enough into the distance that she was out of earshot, Capable turned to Nux.

       “What’s wrong? This is the only way to ensure your survival. You’d never make it on your own out here.” She hesitated, a troubled crease appearing in her forehead as she brushed back a strand of hair. “You’re not still thinking about reaching Valhalla?”

       Nux shook his head. “No.” That desire had fled after accepting that there was no road left to his redemption. “It’s- it’s just-”

       “What?” Capable pulled away from Nux, and he stared helplessly at her. He didn’t want to say it, to muddy the clear features of her face, but he had to.

       “I’m a half-life.” Nux reached up to touch Larry and Barry, his heart heavy.  Realization seemed to fill Capable, and she hugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders, mirroring Nux’s feeling of helplessness.

       Fortunately, Nux didn’t need to say anything else. His few words were devastating enough. True, he had survived countless days since the tumors developed, many more than he had ever expected to. He’d seen other War Boys snatched away in their prime, some before they had even made it out on the road. Taking them all into account, it was astonishing that he’d made it this far. _Lucky,_ even.

But Nux had fully intended for the previous day to be his last. Not only because of his determination to die historic, but because he’d known he was close to it anyway. The fevers were growing steadily worse, and day by day Nux struggled to breathe. He was amazed he’d lasted _this_ long without falling prey to his sickness. And if he'd lasted only  _this_ long, it would have been okay. It was a soft death, yes, but he’d gotten to drive the War Rig and deliver Capable to safety. He’d made allies of which he never could have dreamed, who filled him with a weirdly satisfying sense of purpose, even though it was radically different from his goal as a War Boy. Nux had achieved more than he’d ever asked for, and that was surely enough.

        The only problem was Capable, or rather Capable’s affection. Not that Nux didn’t care for her, but his care was the root of the problem. After Capable had shown Nux such unprecedented kindness, Nux found himself unwilling to part from her side. He felt warm in her presence, and when she spoke, he hung on every word. Above all else, he wanted her to be happy- but her happiness was impossible to ensure.

       Nux didn’t want to leave Capable. But if he traveled with her across the salt, his time would soon come to an end, and she’d be there to witness it all. He couldn’t bear to do that to her, nor was he especially anxious to let death part them.

       Would prematurely severing their bond help Capable or hurt her more, in the long run? And could Nux even bring himself to do it?

       The morose thoughts must have shown on Nux’s face, because Capable reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

       “Nux,” she said gently. “You know I want you to join us. You're not just a valuable asset. I… I don’t want to leave you out here alone. You deserve a better ending to your story.”

      “But it _will_ end.” Nux felt like shrugging away from Capable’s contact, but at the same time, he ached for comfort. “Whether I come with you or not. I won’t be… valuable to you for very long.”

       “But you’ll be with us all the same,” Capable said. “Even if you’re not well enough to fight, we’ll still have your company. A little bit of that goes a long way.”

       Nux couldn’t disagree. The connection Capable felt towards her traveling companions struck him as similar to the way he’d once felt about the other War Boys. It was always better to go out into the wasteland knowing someone had your back. But he wasn’t sure if that was worth the sorrow to eventually follow.

       “If I come with you…” Nux began slowly. “If I come with you, and Larry and Barry get to me after two days of driving… There’s no point to it. You won’t have my company for long.”

      “Yes, but that doesn’t matter!” Capable insisted. “Nux, I want you to come with me-” She swallowed. “With us. Even if you die _tomorrow,_ the time we’ve spent together means the world.”

       _Together. Together._ The word rang through Nux’s head like the aftershocks from standing directly in front of the War Rig’s blaring horn.  He wanted to take Capable into his arms and never let her go, but refrained. She’d been nervous the last time he made a sudden move.

        Instead, Nux placed his hand on her arm and steadily drew close. They gazed at each other for a long moment, and Nux marveled at the vulnerability in Capable’s eyes.

        “I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted. Capable blinked and reached up to trace part of the design on Nux’s chest. He quivered under her touch.

       “I’ll be okay,” Capable said. _“We’ll_ be okay. No matter what happens, I am with you to the end. We all are.” She leaned in suddenly to press her lips to Nux’s cheek. Before Nux could register her action, Capable had pulled away.

       “To the end,” Nux repeated numbly, trying to wrap his mind around what Capable had just done. He leaned back against the car’s seat, and Capable did the same, sighing.

       “So you’re coming with us?”

      Nux filled his lungs, staring up at the lovely sky with a newfound appreciation. “Yes.” Because it didn’t sound convincing enough, he tried again. “ _Yes._ I’ll tell Furiosa first thing in the morning.”

       Smiling, Capable rested her head on Nux’s shoulder, and they watched the stars in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope any readers enjoyed! Feedback is always appreciated if you are so inclined, especially because this is my first work for Mad Max. I may or may not write more stories later- I'm interested in writing about characters other than Nux (I think I've used up all my ideas for him in this work, and so many characters in Fury Road fascinate me), but I'm not sure where to start.


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